


The Benefits of Enterprise

by Bloodnok



Series: Soft Bastards AU [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon non-compliant soft bastard men, M/M, Multi, Set in Eternal Season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:48:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23278096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloodnok/pseuds/Bloodnok
Summary: Elias has been implicating himself into Jon's personal life for a few months; what will it take for him to take his chance to make it more than just friendship?Probably the unexpected arrival of an ex.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan Sims, Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas, Martin Blackwood/Elias Bouchard/Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Series: Soft Bastards AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1694989
Comments: 11
Kudos: 72





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [springgay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/springgay/gifts).



> For TK, because he writes all these soft, messy MartinJonEliasPeter thoughts and then illustrates them and I can’t get them out of my head.

Lunch wasn't a new thing when Peter arrived. It had started months ago, under the guise of Elias' concern that Jon wasn't eating. It happened several times a week. At first whenever Martin hadn't brought enough food to share, then, once Martin started pointedly bringing food for Jon every day, at random, whenever it suited Elias.

Jon was... out of his depth, mainly. He hadn't had much practice at being a Good Boyfriend. He was fairly certain that lunch dates with your boss of whom your partner disapproved weren't usually acceptable. But Martin and Elias had either Discussed it or reached the current frosty accord through the subtle and complex system of glares they each shot at the other whenever Jon wasn't looking. (He always Knew.)

So, lunch continued to happen. Twice now (three times?) it had been dinner instead. But nothing more than that, a nice meal and Elias walking him back either to his desk in the Archives or the flat he and Martin shared. Elias hadn't tried anything. Or, well, he'd tried rather a lot of things; holding Jon's hand across the table, sliding one arm around his waist for a few moments while they waited to be seated, tucking errant strands of hair behind his ear as they stared at each other on the threshold of Jon-and-Martin's flat... "Not a hair out of place, lest Martin scold me," murmured into his ear a moment later, in the midst of the briefest embrace.

But Elias hadn't tried anything like kissing him, or inviting himself into the flat or asking Jon to come back to his place. (Jon wasn't sure, when he thought about saying 'yes' if Elias asked, if he pictured the office back in the institute or some vague notion of what Elias' house might be.) Martin was waiting for Elias to try something, do something that would make Jon uncomfortable, so he could tell him to back off. Jon was waiting to figure out if he remembered what discomfort _was_.

When the handsome, rugged stranger appeared at their riverside table in the middle of one lunchtime outing, Jon discovered he could still be _shocked_. Elias’ lip twitched at the involuntary jump Jon made; his foot stretched out under the table to tangle with Jon’s, sliding up and down along one calf reassuringly.

“Hello,” he said incongruously cheerfully as Elias’ hand reached instinctively for his wine glass, “I’m Peter Lukas, Elias’s husband.”

“Ex-husband.” Elias corrected, sharply.

Peter waved a hand airily, “Nothing that can’t be changed.” He was looking Jon up and down with undisguised amusement. His gaze had none of Beholding’s weight behind it, but was unsettling nonetheless. Elias was knocking back his glass unhelpfully, leaving Jon to make the next move.

“Oh. Are you joining us?” Jon tried not to look too pointedly at the lack of a third place set for the chair Peter was currently occupying.

“He never does,” Elias murmured into the last of his wine. Peter ignored him.

“No…” he swept both arms out to indicate the crowded restaurant behind them. “This sort of place does nothing for me. I’ll see you both later.” He gave Jon’s thigh a quick and possibly friendly squeeze, winked and disappeared. 

Elias scowled at the place Peter had just vacated. Jon’s fingers twitched with the sudden and unfamiliar urge to smooth out the wrinkles that had appeared on Elias’s forehead. Before Jon could decide what to do about it, Elias’s gaze fell back on him, his frown softening into an almost apologetic smile.

“Well. I’m sorry about that interruption, Jon. Let’s just try to enjoy the rest of our meal, hm?”

They didn’t, in the end. Jon had too many questions that Elias refused to answer in public and Peter’s arrival had shattered the gentle illusion of privacy that nurtured the strange excited energy that these lunches had. They finished their food quickly (Elias paid,) and returned to the Institute. Elias left him at the top of the stairs down into the Archives.

“Elias -”

“Later, Jon,” He flashed another weary smile. “Tonight perhaps? Have dinner with me. At my flat. Bring Martin, if he’d like. We can talk then.”

*

Mid-afternoon, Jon was distracted from his post-statement fact-checking by a commotion outside his door.

“Excuse me! Look, I’m sorry you can’t be down here.”

“I’m looking for the Archivist. Is he in?”

“Yes but if you want to make a statement you should-” Jon’s door swung open. He looked up to see Peter, perfectly framed by the door. His benign smile didn’t waver at Jon’s scowl.

“Ah, there you are. I knew Elias would be hiding you away down here somewhere.”

“Peter-” Whatever Jon was about to say, it didn’t stop Peter from entering his office and closing the door on Martin’s affronted face. The crackle of static made Jon flinch and when he settled Peter was leaning against his desk and beaming down at him. “What?”

“You are an unexpected gambit, Jon.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Elias likes his little games. I find them quite tiresome really but they seem to bring him joy.” Peter shrugged his broad shoulders, “Still, he doesn’t usually involve other people, at least not ones he expects to keep. He’s made it very clear he expects to keep you.” Jon shivered as Peter bent down, leaning into his space.

“So… so he didn’t have dinner with Gertrude?” Jon asked, struggling to focus on more than Peter’s deep blue eyes, the spectrum of greys in his beard, the heat of his breath on his face as he chuckled.

“Now why would he do that?” Jon closed his eyes, to concentrate, to try to answer the question. His mouth was slightly open and he inhaled, trying to clear his head but found nothing but Peter. Peter’s mouth was soft and warm against his - Jon’s tongue brushed Peter’s lips. His taste had a hint of salt, tantalising and moreish. Jon leant in, pressing forward, seeking more. Static screeched in his ears and he fell forward, catching himself on his desk. He was alone.

“Jon. Who was that? Where did you go?” Martin was standing in the door, a cup of tea in each hand.

“Peter Lukas. From the statements. He and Elias used to be married,” Jon waited for his brain to return from wherever Peter Lukas had sent it.

“And he turned up, what, to threaten you?” Martin walked into the room, put a cup of tea down on the desk and peered worriedly into Jon’s dazed face. “Elias should do something about that. He can’t let his exes go around threatening you.”

“No, no I... don't think he wanted to hurt me.” Jon’s brain threw up another, tangential thought. “We’ve been invited to dinner.”

“By Peter?”

“Elias. He - Peter surprised us at lunch. Elias wanted to talk it over at his home.”

“And he wants me there?” Jon nodded. “Right. _Right_.” Jon sat back and watched as his boyfriend closed the door and began to talk through their options.

*

Whatever Jon’s plans had been when they arrived at the address Elias gave them - Jon still in his work clothes, Martin armoured in his nicest, poshest sweater - Martin took control.

“Do you know what your _husband_ did to Jon this afternoon?” He asked as the door opened on Elias’s distractingly casual form.

“No?” Elias’s eyes were on Jon, his smile inviting Jon to share in his amused exasperation at Martin. Instead Jon’s brain gave him nothing but Elias’s forearms, bared by his rolled-up shirtsleeves and the expanse of pale skin visible at Elias’s throat, where his tie had been discarded and the top two shirt buttons undone.

“He _kissed_ him.” Elias’s forehead wrinkled again, in that distractingly kissable way, as he stepped aside to usher Jon and Martin in. Without looking, he closed the door behind them, still watching Jon. Elias’s eyes flicked to Martin, a little further into the hall and back to Jon.

“Jon?”

“He did,” Jon confirmed, more heavily than he felt - he wasn’t sure he minded but what Peter had done upset _Martin_ which was surely some kind of crime. Martin made a victorious-validated sort of noise and Elias gave a small ‘hm’. Then he stepped into Jon’s space, cupped his head with both hands and kissed him, firm and deep and lovely.

Elias took his time over the kiss, taking Jon apart slowly. He left one hand drift down Jon’s back, pressing him closer while the other was a gentle, tender guide in his hair, adjusting Jon’s position so that Elias could deepen the kiss. He kissed Jon thoroughly, like this was the only chance he would get and it had to be _perfect_.

When he finally pulled back a little, letting Jon catch his breath in short pants against his cheek, Elias looked to Martin. Jon felt a surge of broad, comforting warmth at his back, felt Elias’s hand on his back twist and grab at Martin’s front, pulling him closer and then _Elias_ was kissing _Martin_. 

Jon was pressed between them, surrounded by heat and Martin’s hands were on his waist and Elias’s hand was on his shoulder and then they broke their short, intense kiss and turned as one to him. They peppered kisses across his face and neck, fighting for space with pointed politeness. Then Martin’s hands on Jon's waist were turning him round so that _he_ could kiss Jon deeply and firmly. Which left Elias’ mouth against his ear, his nose buried in Jon’s hair and his hands slowly untucking Jon’s shirt so that he could run them up under it...

Elias relented first. He took half a step back, disentangling his arms from between Jon and Martin. Jon faltered, his knees weak and surprised at the sudden loss of support at his back. Elias’s hand was at his back instantly, supporting him until Martin could pivot and pin him against a wall. Elias watched them fondly for a few moments, then he cleared his throat.

“I must check on the vegetables - the two of you can come through whenever you’re ready.”

There was dinner - expertly cooked food and expensive wine - and the slow trickle of conversation. Jon remembered little of that; his memory was entirely occupied by the time they spent sat on the sofa after dinner.

At first he was in Martin’s arms, held safe and comfortable as Elias pressed kisses along Jon’s jaw and down his neck, nuzzling against his chest while Martin pressed kisses into his hair. When Elias sat back to admire the mess they had made of Jon, he whined at the loss and reached for him. Martin let him go and he pressed against Elias, clumsily mirroring his path and fumbling at the buttons of his shirt.

Elias let himself be pushed back against the cushions with a soft, delighted laugh. He rested his hands on the small of Jon’s back and at his hip, keeping him steady. Behind them, Martin watched through love-soft eyes, a dreamy smile on his face; Elias shared the sight with Jon, distracting him enough that Elias could press him closer, so he could mouth at Jon’s nipple through his shirt. That brought Jon back to the task at hand.

He moaned loudly and Martin shifted behind him in concern. “Is this alright, Jon?” he asked, moving so that he was closer, more mobile but keeping far enough back that he didn’t add to the pressure, the sensation. Elias meanwhile, pinched one of Jon’s nipple with his free hand and hummed a wordless comment against the other.

“Yes - _yes_. I’m fine Martin. This is - this is fine.” Jon’s breathless response, gasped out between Elias’s movements against his chest, was nevertheless heartfelt. He felt so free, here, knowing Martin was beside him and would stop anything, everything, the moment he said. And Elias, Elias who had spent months waiting, watching, patient and unassuming, whose every touch was perfect, calculated, divine, who had avoided below-the-belt touching without even having to ask. Jon Knew he was safe with him too; no matter how much Elias wanted, he could never hurt Jon like this, could never give Jon anything but exactly what he wanted.

Jon bent down to kiss Elias again, savouring the blissful, disbelieving look on his face. His task was all-consuming, enough that even the sharp whine of static was only a distant whisper to his ears.

“Elias, I’m hurt,” Peter’s voice came from somewhere above them, exaggeratedly forlorn. “Gone for barely three months and this is what you do?”

“I- _ah_ -hmm…” Jon, following Elias’s earlier lead, had elected to ignore Peter; his knee had insinuated itself between Elias’s legs. Elias was, if possible, even easier to take apart like this than Martin. Jon wasn’t especially practiced at or partial to this sort of thing but having Elias melt underneath him was a rare treat. Elias clutched at Jon’s arms and pulled himself up just enough to glare at Peter over Jon’s shoulder.

“The bed would be more comfortable.” Peter observed as he scooped up both Jon and Elias in his arms. Jon gasped and pressed himself tight against Elias, as though he could stop them falling. Elias held him firm, face a few inches from Jon’s, his bright eyes calming.

“Relax,” he advised, his voice at its softest, most hypnotic.

Jon melted, the stress of the day catching him all at once and leaving him bone-weary. He let his head rest on Elias’s chest, still clutched in Peter’s arms. Elias hummed an idle lullaby in his ear, already postponing the rest of his agenda for another evening.

Peter carried them both bodily to the bedroom and dropped them on the bed, Martin was just behind at his elbow, unable to articulate _quite_ how unacceptable the evening had become. Elias, either happy with how things were proceeding or too tired to care, lazily kicked off his shoes and began discarding his already-undone shirt. Once he had stripped down to his boxers he started on Jon, removing enough of his stiff Archivist’s uniform that he could sleep more comfortably.

Peter, on one side of the bed, was going about the same task more carefully, pausing every so often to admire some new expanse of skin that Elias had bared for him - no matter who it belonged to. Martin, on the other, was hovering, uncertain.

Elias rolled Jon so that he was facing Martin, pulling him back against his chest and tucking his chin over Jon’s shoulder.

“Martin,” Jon pleaded, beckoning with his hands. “Just tonight. We can deal with it later.” Once Martin relented, he stripped much faster than Peter. Elias relaxed his hold on Jon so that he could bury his face against Martin’s chest but he kept his hands nearby, idly tracing patterns along Jon’s sides, belly and back as he dozed.

Peter’s weight arrived behind Elias much later, once Jon and Martin were asleep, so deeply entangled in each other that they were breathing in unison, to Elias’s abiding amusement. He let Peter press kisses into his neck and back and possibly to lean back against him, but only from exhaustion, not affection.

In the morning, Jon awoke in Elias’s arms, his fingers tangled in Martin’s. Peter, to Jon’s surprise, was behind Martin, holding him against his broad chest with almost the same possessiveness that Elias held Jon. But that, Jon thought, adjusting his position slightly and settling back into the comfortable warmth behind him, was a problem for another day.


	2. Postscript

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alone once Jon and Martin have left, Elias gets a predictable and expected visitor.

Late in the morning, alone in his bed once more, Elias resigned himself to his fate and got up. He completed his usual oblutions in as perfunctory a manner as possible and found himself sat on the edge of the bed, tracing the outlines of unmade sheets that spoke of the rather greater than usual number of occupants from the previous night. He sighed as quietly as he could, but still he heard the rush of static and felt Peter’s arrival in the room. Elias barely had time to glare before Peter swept him up into a warm embrace and kissed him soundly.

Light pressure on his ex-husband’s shoulder was all Elias needed to make his point. Peter drew back, frowning.

“I’m seeing someone else.”

“Aren’t you always?” Elias resisted the temptation to smile at that weakest of puns. “I love you like this,” Peter continued, setting Elias gently down in the bed and looming over him happily, “Watching other people from your big empty bed, all alone waiting while I go out to sea…” He paused, frowning exaggeratedly. “But you’ve started letting strange men in your bed. Filling it up. It’s just not fair. You don’t even have the decency to pick shallow hook-ups who will leave you feeling emptier than ever.”

Elias raised his eyebrows and scowled back, “As I recall you put the men in my bed. I had nothing to do with it.”

“You mean you hadn’t already? I have to say I’m disappointed.”

Elias, propping himself up on his elbows, gave Peter his best and sharpest glare.

“Oh _Elias_ , really? And they’re both so cute.”

Elias continued drawing himself up, adjusting the gape of his dressing gown so that he was at his most disarmingly put together. “Jon is very becoming, yes,” he said cooly, “Martin is… there too, I suppose.”

“Well, if you’re not interested in _Martin_ , I could take him off your hands.” Peter immediately began undoing the tie on Elias’s robe so that he could slip his hands underneath.

“Not in the way that you mean. It would hurt Jon and _that_ is unacceptable.

“ _Elias!_ ” Peter’s hands on his hips stilled briefly and squeezed, “I do believe you’ve become attached. Formed a weakness?”

“He is my Archivist, Peter, it’s perfectly reasonable to want to protect my investment.” Elias just kept his voice level and dismissive as Peter bent to nuzzle at his collarbone.

“Oh yes, your _investment_ ,” Peter lifted his head briefly to properly mock Elias’s hauty tone, “And are you seeing many returns?” Elias threw his head back, half in response to the bite Peter placed at the base of his neck and half with the ecstasy of the thought of his Archivist, so beautiful marked and ever closer to perfection. He shivered with that blissful thought.

“Yes, Peter, I am. He is coming along… rather nicely.” Peter’s trail of tongue, lips and teeth became slightly more teeth. He pulled back to look Elias in the eyes. 

“But no sex?”

Elias smiled indulgently, “No Peter, no sex. Well. Rarely. Certainly never with me.”

Peter tutted softly against Elias’s skin, “You poor thing. What a shame you’re all alone here, with no one to look after you…” He lifted his head to whisper in Elias’s ear, in the sultriest voice he could muster. “Someone to clear the cobwebs out for you.” Elias slapped him across the face with his open palm. 

“If you think that sort of foul talk is going to swindle you into bed with me -” Peter, unsuprised and recovering quickly, shoved Elias back against the bed. Quickly rising to stradle him he smirked.

“It already did.”


End file.
